


To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

by laireshi



Category: Marvel 616, New Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve keeps having unsettling nightmares. It's a good thing Tony's there for him - but then he's gone, and it's Steve who has to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by vail-kagami's beautiful RBB art, for which her writers dropped out :(  
> She was kind enough to let me write this fic based on her picture anyway and to draw more illustrations for the fic, too - they're all great: [here](http://vail-kagami.livejournal.com/180523.html).  
> Big thanks to MemoryDragon for beta-reading. She's wonderful.
> 
> It's set post-Extremis, pre-Execution Program. Mind the tags - there's really way too much cuddling and hugging here.
> 
> It's the longest thing I've written so far. And it's my first venture into the Avengers fandom.

Steve woke up with a gasp. For a second he didn't know where he was and he could only hear the frantic beating of his heart, but his head cleared after a few gulps of air. Tony was half-lying, half-sitting next to him with a worried expression, his hand on his arm.

"Steve? You with me?" he asked. Steve nodded, still a little overwhelmed, and then he focused. Tony. Tony was – 

"Are you all right?" Steve asked as he sat up, running his hands over Tony to check for injuries. Tony tilted his head and looked at him oddly, but did nothing to stop him.

"It's not me who's just had a nightmare," he said, and then something must have clicked in his brain, because he stilled Steve's hands and embraced him tightly. "Calm down, I'm fine."

Was he really? Something was wrong – Steve couldn't concentrate on that thought. But there was something wrong with Tony, he'd been... Steve reached for Tony's left wrist, ran his hand over it, but it was whole, not a shadow of a bruise on it, and why would there be, they had a calm week. Tony's pulse beat strong and steady, of course it did. Steve couldn't remember what he dreamt about. Suddenly feeling stupid, he pulled Tony even closer to him with his other hand.

"I'm sorry for waking you up," he said. Tony huffed a breath against his neck.

"Don't be. It's all right. I'm okay. You're okay. We're both okay." Tony's quiet, even voice effectively calmed him down. Yes, they were fine, and with the lives they were living it was a moment to cherish, and he smiled, even though Tony couldn't see it with his face pressed against Steve's neck.

"Okay," he repeated and nodded. They were okay.

 

***

 

The next night he went to sleep alone. He didn't think much of it - Tony tended to pull all-nighters when he got immersed into some project of his, and Steve'd known it long before they got together. Of course he loved to fall asleep next to Tony, but to be honest, Tony had almost completely stopped sleeping at the narrow bunk in his workshop, and he usually resurfaced when Steve was about to lie down. He hadn't expected that at the start of their relationship and had been really moved - and he wasn't about to ask for more when he knew Tony gave him as much of himself as he was comfortable giving to anyone. He didn't need more. He was happy with Tony - he was happier than he'd ever imagine himself being. So he didn't go down to distract Tony from his work. If he hadn't emerged himself, it must have been important. With that thought Steve fell asleep.

He woke up several hours later with Tony's name on his lips, and not in the fun way. He immediately reached to his right only to find cold mattress there. He got up and ran several floors down to Tony's workshop without really thinking, and only when he's punched in his code and went inside did he stop to actually breathe. Tony was leaning over some circuit – _alive_ , wonderful, brilliant, beautiful Tony, all right and whole and just there behind his desk, soldering iron in his hand and grease oil on his once white tank-top. Steve just stood at the door and let the relief wash through him.

Tony didn't look up at him, but must have heard him entering. “I know it's late, Steve, but I've gotta finish this.” Even as he spoke, he touched the soldering iron to the circuit and pressed a small component to it. A narrow smudge of smoke raised over it. “I really don't want to spend another night soldering circuit boards for the new Starkpad prototype,” he added with some irritation in his voice. “I thought I was paying people to do that. And my code updates for the armour have almost finished compiling. I want to test them out.” He didn't stop working, but his eyes went black for a moment and Steve knew he was accessing some data with the Extremis. “Yeah, no, no sleep for me tonight, even when I finish this I've still got documents to sign. By hand. I thought we lived in the twenty-first century.” His complaining about paperwork never ceased to amuse Steve, but he couldn't quite shake the worry now.

“Tony,” Steve said. He only meant to say that it was okay, he just wanted to see him, but his throat tightened and he couldn't get the rest of the words out. Tony looked up at him then and frowned, setting the tool down. He quickly crossed the room to Steve. Tony touched his face, and Steve didn't even mind he smelt like heated solder.

He just repeated his name and Tony looked at him with worry, pulling him closer and kissing him, warm and alive. Steve melted against him, put his arms around him and stopped thinking about anything else, forgot what it was exactly that had him so worried.

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered against his mouth when he pulled back for a breath. Steve didn't even have a chance to protest that, because Tony kissed him again, soft and insistent. "I'll power everything down, and we can come to bed, okay?" Tony said. Steve's hands involuntarily tightened around Tony, but he shook his head.

"You don't have to."

"I want to," Tony said decisively. "Though maybe shower first," he added, looking at his top and frowning. "Together. Honestly, what can possibly be better than a chance to spend some quality time with a gorgeous blond?"

Steve let him pretend it was about that, grateful and embarrassed in equal measures. Tony didn't let him go, just pulled him by his hand around his lab as he disconnected several devices and powered down his computers by hand as opposed to doing it with the Extremis. Steve felt grateful for that as well, because he knew Tony did it for him, aware that Steve still was getting used to the idea of his new technopathic abilities. Much as Tony obviously enjoyed them, Steve was still unsettled every time he found Tony staring into space with data reflecting in his eyes. They returned to their bedroom. Tony didn't stop touching him for a single second, and Steve let Tony take care of him, and felt safe in his arms.

 

***

 

The next night he fell asleep hugging Tony with their legs entangled together, but he still woke up in the small hours of Saturday panicking and with the terrible conviction that Tony was in danger, and there were shards breaking... By the time he checked and really believed Tony was fine, perfectly safe next to him and worried only about Steve, he couldn't remember why he'd been so sure something was wrong. Tony patiently helped him relax again with touches and kisses and quiet whispered little nothings which to Steve were everythings. He thought he didn't deserve that wonderful man, but he was still awake enough to know better than to say it out loud.

"I love you," he murmured instead, "I love you I love you I love you," he repeated like a mantra to make sure Tony knew it and wouldn't ever worry, and wouldn't hesitate to ask Steve for help if something happened, and because it was true and he liked to say it, he liked to watch Tony face when he did, his small smile, still with a hint of surprise every time he heard it and the way his eyes turned soft and trusting. He looked relaxed and happy then, which happened entirely too rarely for Steve's liking.

Tony snuggled closer to him. They held each other and maybe didn't sleep any more before sun came up, but that was all right. There wasn't anything Steve'd rather be doing at the time.

 

***

 

He left Tony in bed to go for his morning run and spent it trying not to think about the nightmares. It didn't work too well. Truth be told, Steve was getting worried, because while he had had his fair share of nightmares and was used to them, they'd never felt like this. Back during his first weeks in future, he woke up almost every night because of dreams of Bucky, of falling and of the ice; after the Avengers disassembled, he saw Hawkeye jumping to his death or Wanda hovering over them, and the images always would stay with him long after he woke up, no matter how hard he might have tried to push them back.

Now he was waking up feeling undefined terror and always, _always_ worried for Tony, expecting to see him hurt or injured (or worse, and he tried not to think about that), but he never remember what exactly he'd seen in his dreams that caused those feelings, and that was both better and worse than remembering. It almost felt like some horrible premonition, but Steve didn't believe in such things. He wanted to say it was leftover fear he'd felt after learning about the Extremis and the circumstances behind Tony injecting himself with it, but he was oddly sure it wasn't that. He briefly thought about asking a telepath for help, but then decided he was being paranoid. Besides, he didn't want to ask Emma, because she and Tony had history, and while he knew it was just that, history, she was sarcastic enough to make him feel awkward.

He returned to the tower. His thoughts kept running in cycles and physical exertion didn't relax him as it usually did. However, it was weekend, and he had Tony all to himself for the near future (probably just before Peter decided to nag them or a villain of the week thought it was high time he wreaked some havoc in Central Park), and he intended to make the most of it instead of sitting around moping about his dreams. Besides, he worried Tony enough by constantly waking him up with his nightmares, and the man got too little sleep as it was. So Steve hoped they'd pass soon.

Apparently he had prophetic abilities, because just when he finished showering and came back to Tony, they got a call that a villain of the week had attacked. In Central Park. Again.

Every time he watched Tony suit up in the matter of seconds, Steve admitted he had to re-evaluate his initial assessment of the Extremis. He still was uneasy whenever he saw Tony working computers with his brain, but the knowledge that he pretty much couldn't be caught without his armour anymore was nice. He knew Tony was more than capable of holding his own, the armour or not, but the fact remained: he was safer in it. 

Steve was lucky Tony wasn't a telepath, because he'd sulk for a week, hearing him now. As it was, he just waited for Steve to finish pulling his body armour on, and then flew them to the park.

 

***

 

"Oh, great, more supervillain wannabes." Steve heard Spider-Man's voice in his comm. While he wouldn't put it that way, Spider-Man had a point. It wasn't even worth calling the whole team, but Spider-Man and Wolverine had arrived not long after him and Iron Man. There were two men in the middle of the park, making more chaos than any real harm. Steve wasn't even sure if they were working together or fighting each other. They definitely seemed to be shouting at each other a lot, and throwing their powers around without any real aim. The taller man, lean and blond, seemed to be able to control the wind to some extent, but he quite clearly didn't have any ideas how to use his power. The second one, utterly unremarkable save for the scar on his cheek, was throwing his hands around without any coordination. Blocks of ice appeared where he pointed at and melted almost instantaneously.

All in all, it was almost embarrassing.

Or at least he'd thought so before Iron Man took a step forward, probably to address them after reaching similar conclusions as Steve, and got hit with a white blast seemingly out of nowhere. In terrible slow motion in front of Steve's eyes, Tony's armour fell down to the ground around him. Tony himself stood unsteadily over it, then swayed, and before Steve could run to him, there was another blast of light, so bright he was forced to close his eyes against it. When he regained his vision, Tony was gone.

Feeling horribly detached, Steve threw his shield, knocking both of the men down, but not out; he briefly looked around, but saw no possible source of the blasts that had hit Tony.

“What did ya do to Iron Man?!” Wolverine said, already at one of the men with his claws out and at his throat.

“Nothing! I didn't do anything!” the man answered very, very quickly, as white as a sheet. Wolverine looked at him for a long moment, and then moved to the second guy, but he started loudly and insistently denying any knowledge before Wolverine even reached him. “They ain't lyin',” Wolverine grudgingly admitted.

Steve looked around again. Trees, some police officers securing the area. It was still early, there weren't many people around. He briefly wondered whether anyone had noticed who'd been inside the Iron Man armour, and wanted to laugh at himself for worrying about that right now. They had to take care of the villains, which meant putting them into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody; and only then make a full area scan and see if there weren't any CCTV cameras directed at them, which may have caught someone responsible for the attack. They had to find Tony. Steve felt dizzy.

"Alert S.H.I.E.L.D.," he told Wolverine and Spider-Man. They weren't the best choice for communicating with Maria Hill, but he really couldn't do that at the moment. He'd have to talk to her in a short time anyway, and he'd have to deal with the police as well, but right now...

He approached lying around parts of Tony's armour.

"Armour override. Steve Rogers. 34-44-54-64."

Nothing happened.

Feeling dread, he repeated the order.

Still nothing.

Fully aware that the one thing Tony couldn't stand was the thought of his armour getting into the hands of – anybody else, actually, Steve knelt down and collected every single part, put them on his shield for a lack of other possibilities.

As if from great distance, he noticed his hands were shaking. He really had to get a grip on himself. His breaking down wouldn't help Tony.

Still feeling a little shaky, he talked to the police, observed handling the villains to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and asked Hill for CCTV readings. She promised to send them. They didn't always see eye to eye, but a missing Avenger always meant trouble, a still working part of his brain whispered. He told Wolverine to check the area, see if he couldn't smell anything, and asked a remaining police officer to drive him back to the Tower. It wasn't a far walk, but he had Tony's armour to take care of.

Once there, he put it safely in Tony's lab and went to the main living room, where the rest of the team was already waiting.

He didn't trust his legs that long, so he sat down on the couch - his and Tony's, his brain unhelpfully reminded - and felt as if he woke up.

With a jolt, he realised his thoughts had been foggy ever since Tony'd disappeared in front of his eyes – and it wasn't just a side effect of understandable shock of seeing his lover get hit. No, the slowness of his reactions didn't feel natural at all. He'd gone through securing the scene on sheer autopilot. He hadn't even started to think of what happened past "Tony disappeared".

"Magic," he said aloud. "I felt really weird there. Unnatural weird. And since the Extremis, it's pretty much impossible to get to Tony with technology. So. Magic. That's why the armour is unresponsive. So it can't be used to track him."

“Weird like 'holy shit, Tony's gone', or weird like 'why are there disembodied voices talking to me?'” Peter asked from his position high on the wall. He was still in his costume, but had pulled his mask down.

“Not actual voices,” Steve said. “Whatever that was, it's gone now.”

“You sure about that?” Luke asked. He had history with mind-control, he could have been worried, of course.

“ _Yes_. It wasn't controlling me or anything, it's not the priority” Steve said with conviction. “We have to concentrate on finding Tony.”

Logan looked at him oddly. "I'll say what nobody here wants to say. You keep sayin' he's missing and we have to find him," he started.

Steve frowned. That was the truth, but had Steve said it before? He couldn't really remember what he'd been saying back in Central Park. The general ideas, yes, but not the words actually used.

"Big blast like that? Coulda killed Stark on spot." Logan said, and Steve clutched his fists so tight his knuckles went white. He hadn't allowed himself to think of that, of course he hadn't, because it couldn't have happened, it was impossible, Tony was alive, they just didn't know where –

"...is right," Peter was speaking, Steve realised. "You can't take his armour off like that against his will without really advanced technology and a lot of power. He'd have noticed that kind of weapon with the Extremis. I say magic. And since Tony's not around to say it, I'll add it for him. I hate magic." Steve forced himself to concentrate past the terror of his thoughts. Peter was right, he told himself. Jessica Jones approached Steve and put a hand on his arm. He looked at her gratefully.

"We have to find out who did it anyway. We are going to work under the assumption that Tony is in fact alive, and that he can get hurt if we're not careful enough. Logan. You saw what hit him. It was localised. If whoever did that was able to hit him like that in the first place and wanted to kill him, I don't think they'd need to remove the armour off him first," Steve said firmly. Everybody nodded.

"Maria Hill promised to send CCTV tapes, but I doubt there'll be anything useful on them. Logan, did you find anything?" Steve asked. Logan just shook his head, but Peter raised his hand.

"Um, I've got something," he said. "I webbed those amateurs in the park together – they panicked, said they hadn't had any powers yesterday and didn't know what happened."

"Standard excuses," Luke snorted.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, but - if we really go for the magic angle here they might just be telling the truth."

Steve nodded. It was possible. It would have been an over-elaborate plan, but most supervillains specialised in those.

"If it's magic, you'll want to talk to Doctor Strange," Jessica Drew said. Steve agreed, even though the name brought still too fresh memories. He trusted the man and respected him, but the last time they needed his help... Steve tried to will the memories away. No point in dwelling on them.

"Let's hope he's on this plane of existence," Peter said. Steve just wished he could hope it was a joke.

"I'll try to contact him,” Steve said. “Peter, Luke, try to gather some information street-level. The rest of you, wait for those CCTV tapes from Hill.” 

"We all want to find him, Cap," Peter told him when he stood up to leave. He just nodded in reply. He left the room, pulled out his phone and dialled Strange's Mansion. To his disappointment, when Wong took the call, he informed Steve that Doctor Strange really was on another plane. He promised to deliver Steve's message as soon as possible, and then Steve was left with nothing to do but worry.

***

Steve woke up suddenly, sat up and looked around the room blind with panic. His heart was beating frantically, he couldn't catch his breath, and Tony, Tony was hurt – Tony was dying, he had to...

“Tony!” he said, alarmed, turned to look at him and then realised he was alone. He was halfway to the door when he remembered the last day, stopped in his tracks and fell to his knees. Tony wasn't working late in his workshop, not tonight, and he wouldn't smile at him with warm amusement in his eyes in moments. Tony was gone. Steve hadn't felt that lost for months.

Tony'd been taken, defenceless without his armour, and Steve couldn't help him. Steve couldn't do anything but sit and wait patiently while other people helped him find Tony, who might have been hurt, or tortured, or – no, Steve wasn't going to think about Logan's words. Tony was nothing if not resourceful, he _had to_ be fine, but he was gone, and Steve could only think of ice shattering.

He stood up and on shaking legs went to the bathroom, splayed his face with warm water. It wasn't half as effective as cold would be, but it cleared his eyes, and he couldn't bring himself to touch anything connected with ice at the moment.

It was just after midnight, but he didn't even try to sleep more. He tried to paint something, anything, but couldn't concentrate and it didn't relax him as it usually did, so he gave up and just looked at his not even half-finished picture. When he realised he'd been painting what looked like glass shards on stone floor, he tore the canvas apart.

He spent the rest of the night punching the hell out of the training equipment.

***

It was early afternoon when Steve's phone rang and he almost ran to answer it.

“Hello, Captain,” Strange's voice greeted him.

“Doctor Strange,” Steve answered, relieved. So the sorcerer was back on Earth. That was quick, but the last thing Steve was going to do was to complain.

“Wong told me of your message. I'm not surprised, there were strange magic fluctuations over New York lately,” he said without preamble. Steve thought he sounded worried. And then he looked worried, because he appeared in front of Steve in a burst of blue light. Steve startled and raised his hands in defensive stance before he recognised the sorcerer. Strange seemed unmoved by this, but after a second of staring at Steve, he frowned and gesticulated. 

"There's something not right about you," he said.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"There's alien aura around you. Your head, mostly. Not quite strong enough for mind control, but..."

"I've been having weird nightmares," Steve admitted, feeling suddenly light-headed.

"You should have called me sooner," Strange said. "Tell me about those dreams."

He couldn't, Steve knew that intellectually, but he still felt guilty. He'd only had them a few times - few terrifying times, admittedly - and only yesterday really let himself think there was something wrong about them. He couldn't have done anything sooner, but with Tony gone, it was awfully hard to believe that.

"I can't. I don't really remember them," he shrugged uneasily. "They were about Tony, I think. I woke up convinced he was hurt several times...” Or dead, but Steve couldn't bring himself to say that... Was it really important to Strange, anyway? Something was wrong with that thought, but Steve couldn't concentrate on that, and he returned to the previous topic. “There was something about shards... Can it be connected to his disappearance?"

"Probably. Tell me more about the fight, too."

Steve described what little he'd seen, and Strange carefully listened to each word. He demanded to see the armour, and Steve let him, leading him to Tony's workshop, because while Tony might've been justly paranoid about both, he was also missing right now and this was their chance to find him. Steve didn't know what to hope for while Doctor Strange murmured spells under his breath.

"Same aura," Strange said finally. "A little changed, just enough to seem different at first sight, but whoever attacked him, it was the same person who was messing with your dreams."

"Can you fix it? If the armour was responsive, it could track Tony."

Strange looked at the parts lying on the table. He carefully lifted what might have been an armplate up and studied it for a moment. Eventually he shook his head. "I'd rather not try without Tony Stark here. The spell is easy enough to remove, but I don't know how the armour's systems work, and changing magic fields would rather damage it than not. Knowing him, I somehow doubt he left helpful notes."

Steve agreed - hell would freeze over before Tony left notes on his armour, of course - trying to hide his disappointment.

"I can track the same aura on Earth, though," Strange added, and Steve breathed in relief. "I'll need you to come with me to my mansion. We need to make sure you're free of any influence anyway."

He hadn't actually thought of that, which probably meant he still wasn't in his right mind. Solving that issue should have been his priority. He couldn't operate under anybody's influence, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant... And that was it, wasn't it? It wasn't insignificant. Somebody just wanted him to think it was... It didn't bother him in any noticeable way, he had more important things to concentrate on... He gritted his teeth. Whatever else he might have been thinking, he _had to_ go with Doctor Strange.

He alerted the other Avengers of where he was going and let Strange know he was ready. The sorcerer nodded, whispered the spell and otherworldly light engulfed them. The sensation of teleportation wasn't exactly a pleasant one, but Steve was long since used to less than conventional means of transportation, like flying with one arm around Iron Man's waist. He pushed away the pang in his chest at that thought.

They arrived directly into Strange's study, judging by the pentagram drawn on the floor. Steve looked around with curiosity. He wasn't here often, but at every time he wondered at how the sorcerer's study looked at once so alike and completely different to Tony's lab. There were old, leather-bound tomes in place of computers, candles and alien-looking ingredients in place of tools and wires, an actual cauldron where Tony would have boiling tubes and Petri dishes. Both men would probably scowl at Steve for thinking their respective work spaces were in similar any way, but the fact stood that Tony's lab and Strange's study were personal workshops of geniuses in their fields and it showed.

“Sit down there and close your eyes.” Strange pointed at the pentagram. “Relax if you can. I'll take that spell of you.” At least he wasn't wasting any time, Steve thought. Steve himself did enough of that. Strange started murmuring in another language and Steve concentrated on his voice, even though he couldn't understand a word.

 

***

 

He quickly opened his eyes and sat up, looking around in alarm before remembering where he was. He didn't remember falling asleep. He definitely didn't remember doing that on a couch.

"You're clear," Strange said. Steve startled, hearing his voice, and looked in that direction. Strange was sitting in the air not far from Steve, a grimoire in his lap. "You've been out for a few hours after I undid the spell, not really surprising. It was a much better spell than the one on the armour, though. Not a challenge for me, of course, but it's weird, considering. One could think Iron Man - or Tony Stark - was the target, with the enemies he has in both of his identities, but I'm not so sure now. They put much more effort into influencing your mind; the spell on his armour was just brute force."

Steve rubbed at his eyes. He thoughts seemed clearer somehow. It wasn't the sudden change he'd felt in the Avengers Tower after he'd returned from Central Park this morning, but it was there. He wasn't sure he'd really notice it if he didn't know to look for it, though.

"So you're saying he's after me?" Steve frowned. If they were trying to get to him - well, attacking Tony was a good idea. “But no one should know about us. Or that Tony is Iron Man.”

"This villain of yours knows by now, and probably did before. You said you dreamt of Tony, not Iron Man, and you're consistent when it comes to the use of code names," Strange said. He was right, of course. Steve might've not remembered his dreams, but the panic he'd felt after waking up... Tony didn't have his armour in those nightmares, Steve was sure.

"I've got a list of locations where a similar aura occurs," Strange continued. "Eight places. I can't narrow it down, they seem almost too similar on astral plane."

"Thank you," Steve said honestly. Eight places to check was a lot, but infinitely better than zero. "There was something else," he remembered suddenly. "Spider-Man said those men in Central Park earlier today swore they hadn't had their powers even yesterday. They didn't really know how to use them, too."

"Probably not a coincidence," Strange agreed. "If it is so, then I definitely shall attempt to free them of their powers. Such magic is dangerous, unstable at best; I'm afraid they and their surroundings are in danger. Here is your list, Captain." Strange handed a piece of paper to Steve. He quickly read it. Most of the places were in their vicinity, just two in another state. Starting with the ones closer was the best course of action in the face of lack of other clues.

"Thanks," he said again. "I'm really grateful for your help."

Strange nodded.

"I hope you'll find him quickly, Captain. I, however, won't assist you. Your team should do well enough on its own. I'm going to take a look at those men from Central Park; if it really was a spell, I may be able to help them, but I need to check it quickly. I'll let you know if something new comes up.” He closed the tome he'd been reading earlier and stood up. “Contact me if anything changes, and I expect to hear from Tony in regards to his armour. Now, step forward, if you please, I'll take you back to the tower."

Steve did, and feeling of a teleportation spell engulfed him again.

 

***

 

Steve was getting desperate. It'd been six days and countless talks with Doctor Strange (who was still taking care of their opponents from Central Park – he said that it took more effort to safely remove traces of magic from someone than to add it) later and they still hadn't found Tony. They were at the fourth location, and there hadn't been even a trace of him - or anyone, for that matter - in any of the previous three. But this one was the first where Wolverine actually said he could smell Tony. It didn't have to mean anything, Steve was all too aware of that, but it was something, a little hope, and it gave him strength. He was rid of the magic-induced dreams, but he really couldn't sleep without knowing if Tony was safe. Thinking of the many possibilities - each worse than the last - was enough to give him new nightmares. He was aware that they still had four locations on the list, but it wasn't a thought he liked entertaining.

They stood in front of an old warehouse. It was undistinguishable from millions of other run-down buildings like that: grey, dark, with broken windows and no signs of recent usage. More significant was that it was undistinguishable from the three other locations they checked. " _Almost too similar_ ," Stephen Strange had said, and Steve was beginning to think it extended beyond the astral plane. He'd wondered, at the second warehouse, whether that was magic or just lack of imagination of architects, but now it seemed to him it was the same windows broken, the same dented doors secured with a rusted padlock and chain.

Spider-Man looked around, uneasily. "Spider-sense tingling," he said on the comms. “And not just because dark abandoned buildings straight from horror movies creep me out.”

"I'll take it as a good sign this once," Spider-Woman answered. Steve was inclined to agree.

"Let's go," he said, and kicked the door open. For a second he thought it was another empty storage building. Like on the outside, on the inside it looked just like the previous ones - spacious, dusted hall filled with empty boxes and unused machinery. Then something black and blurry attacked him from above and he instinctively raised his shield to block it. Whatever it was, it disappeared once it touched the cold metal. Another something – he still hadn't seen what it was – swung at him from the left and he brought down his shield to protect himself. This time he felt the impact of the blow on his shield, but the thing disappeared a second afterwards, just like the first one had. 

"Really? Magic-ish, disappearing tentacles?" Spider-Man said flatly from behind him. "Ninjas. I miss ninjas. I really, really do. Can we go back to Japan, please?"

Tentacles. He had a point, Steve mused, blocking another attack. They were getting stronger, but kept flickering out of existence upon contact with his shield, and he couldn't see where they were coming from. They attacked apparently at random, and Steve suspected they had to find the man responsible for itp to stop them. Wolverine hissed with pain when one wrapped around his wrist and didn't disappear. He quickly cut it off with his claws and shook it off. It disappeared a second later. Wolverine's wrist looked as if it was burnt, but his healing factor was already taking care of that. So they could hurt living bodies, but not objects... It was a weird form of attack, compared to the spell that took Tony out. Strange'd said it was just brute force, but it had been effective. For now the tentacles just slowed them down. Luke laughed when one hit him and it turned out his unbreakable skin wasn't damaged by them. Spider-Man didn't have so much luck when one tentacle wrapped around his ankle and pulled him down, but Steve threw his shield at it and cut it off.

“Thanks, Cap. Ouch, but Tony'll owe me a new costume,” Spider-Man commented, looking at the torn fabric on his leg. He was lucky the tentacle didn't touch him long enough to burn his skin as well.

They moved forward, blocking or dodging the attacks, without any real way to return the attack. The tentacles kept attacking them, quicker and stronger and from different sides, when Wolverine sniffed the air. ”Stark's downstairs, Cap," he said. "Somebody else, too."

Steve looked around, trying to find a way down in between stopping the tentacles from taking his head off. The warehouse didn't seem to have any rooms inside, just one big space filled with rubbish, but he noticed what might have been a trapdoor under the wall to his left. He motioned at the other Avengers to start moving there. Immediately, the tentacles started attacking with more force, until they couldn't move forward without risking a hit.

"Make a run for it, Cap, we'll stop them there," Luke said, dodging a hit to his side. Steve nodded. There really wasn't another choice. They had to stop the person controlling the tentacles, and he was willing to bet they were underground with Tony.

He waited for the next tentacle to attack him, and hit it before it could change the direction. Then he ran to the trapdoor as fast as he could. He heard a sound as if Spider-Man's webs stopped another from hitting him in the back, but he couldn't spare it the attention when he reached the hatch, trying to open the door. It raised with surprising ease. He looked down. There was a ladder, but the floor wasn't far down, so he just jumped and found himself in a muddy corridor, a tunnel actually. The walls were just carved in ground, supported by wooden pillars, but not reinforced with anything else.

He ran ahead at slow pace, unhindered by any new magic tentacles or other monsters. There was a plain door at the end of the tunnel. He opened it and stopped dead in his tracks.

A feeling of powerful déjà vu engulfed him, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. Suddenly he remembered every one of his nightmares - because he was in the middle of them.

He was in a small rectangular room, or rather a cellar with stone cold walls. Another door looking like the one he'd just gone through was on the opposite wall. There was only one person inside, with no trace of the sorcerer responsible for all this. But the lack of the sorcerer wasn't really important in that moment.

Tony was there, looking terribly pale and lost. He was sitting down next to a stone block, and held one arm above him at an awkward angle: his wrist was chained to the block. He stared in space with a blank look in his eyes, but he moved slightly, hearing Steve, and looked at him with surprise evident in his features. Steve ran to him as Tony climbed to his feet and stood, a little unsteady.

And then Steve stopped, because he knew how it continued: he would reach out, touch Tony, and Tony would shatter under his touch like a glass figure, like ice.

But then Tony whispered with wonder in his voice, "Steve," and it was different, because in his dreams he never spoke... Steve couldn't stand the look in his eyes, took the last step separating them and wrapped his arms tightly around Tony, held him close and prayed it was the right thing to do. Tony just froze under his hands, alive and whole.

"You're here," he said against Steve's neck, his breath cold. "It's been so long... I didn't think..." He cut off, didn't finish the sentence, but what he said was enough to break Steve's heart.

"Tony, sweetheart," he said quietly. On a good day, Tony would mock his use of the pet name, call him sentimental and old-fashioned, but he would smile while saying that. Now he didn't react in any way. Steve took half a step back, just so he could look at Tony's face, but Tony immediately looked down. Steve tangled his hand in Tony's hair, stroked his back and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry it took me that long. I'm here now. We'll go home and..." And what, actually? He couldn't remember the last time Tony looked so defeated. Just what exactly had happened to him? It took a lot to break him like that...

Tony always reacted well to touch, so Steve moved his hand down from his hair to his neck – and froze, feeling a collar under his fingers. Cold hate swept through him. He found Tony, but there was still the man who'd taken him away to deal with, and when Steve got to him, he'd wish it was Wolverine with his lethal claws instead of Captain America dealing with him. He breathed steadily to try and calm down. He needed to unchain Tony first. Reluctantly he let go of him to look at the cuff closely. It fit firmly around Tony's wrist, almost no place to move it. Tony's skin was darkly bruised underneath it. Steve couldn't see a keyhole, hinges or any other obvious way to open it. Wolverine's claws would come in handy, but he was upstairs, and no way in hell would Steve leave Tony now. He could probably break the chain with his shield, though, he thought, reached for it, and froze again.

He didn't have it. He wasn't even in his costume anymore, just a white t-shirt and training slacks.

To borrow from Tony, he hated magic. 

He ran his fingers over the collar as well, but it was the same solid metal as the cuff, and he wasn't even surprised. Tony didn't even move when Steve was checking that. His lack of responses was what scared Steve the most.

"You still with me, Avenger?" he asked. Tony looked at him then, squinted slightly.

"Not..." He winced suddenly and his whole body tensed, as if he was in pain. "Not really, Steve," he forced out. "He..." His eyes closed and he fell down. Steve caught him with one hand around his waist, the other frantically searching for pulse. Once he found it, he breathed with relief and gently lowered Tony to the ground, minding his chained wrist.

It was high time Steve found the evil wizard. Without any other real choice, he crossed the room to the door. He put his hand on the knob and hesitated, looked back once, briefly. Tony seemed so vulnerable there. Steve's hand on the knob tightened so hard it screeched, and he quickly opened the door.

He half expected another tunnel, but instead found himself in a summer garden. After the initial surprise, he realised it must have been an illusion - and not a good one at that. His bare forearms were cold, he could see roses, but smell just stagnant air of undergrounds. Maybe Doctor Strange dispelling the dream charm off him made him a little immune to that particular magic, who knew. It wasn't really important, as Steve noticed a middle-aged man looking at him from a few yards away. He was rather unremarkable, clothed in an unfitted dark brown suit, so at odds with all his displays of magic before. He had one of those easily-forgotten faces, dark eyes and hair. Steve was sure he was the man responsible for everything, though. His common features aside, a high-tech looking band on his forehead didn't really belong on normal people. Nor did the ridiculous bright red bow tie at his neck, come to think of it.

Steve registered all this almost unconsciously. He was trying to keep himself from strangling the man with his bare hands. He couldn't, not before he knew what the bastard had done to Tony.

"Captain, captain, captain," the man said cheerfully. "I take it you've seen your, ah, friend already?"

"What have you done to him?!" His hand twitched and he wished he still had his shield with him. Tony hid his emotions behind his armour, Steve sought comfort in his shield.

"That's a yes then. Doesn't he look pretty, broken like that?" The man clasped his hands with delight.

"You're sick," Steve gritted out with disgust.

“Ah, ah, I'd mind your words if I were in your place.” He shook his head as if he was scolding a child. “To answer your question, no lasting damage done, I wouldn't dream of harming an experiment like him." He started to laugh, loud and utterly mad. “That's your job, dreaming.”

"Why," Steve asked, just cold fury in his voice.

"I fancy myself a scientist, in a way. People's dreams say so much about them, allow so much control over them. I made so many discoveries about that. But I couldn't continue my work, no, because you, you thought the organisation was doing something wrong. You destroyed my research. I was so angry. And then I lost even more.” The man clutched his fists and started pacing. A personal vendetta, then, Steve thought, even though he couldn't for the life of him remember that man. He probably was just 'working' on some level of one of many, many illicit organisations he took down. What was the 'more' he was talking about, Steve had no ideas. He was also getting more and more angry at his words: Tony was a scientist. Reed Richards was a scientist. Even Strange in his own way was a scientist. They all worked to make the world a better place. This man didn't deserve to be called a scientist – he was just a crazy, if intelligent, criminal.

The man stopped in his tracks, turned back to Steve and visibly forced himself to relax again. “But then I thought: a man out of time: your mind must be a fascinating place. Your imagination even more so! I was so curious!” He laughed, put his hands in his pockets and bounced on his feet. Then he looked Steve straight in the eyes, and Steve almost flinched. He hadn't seen so much hatred in anybody's gaze since he last faced Red Skull. The man's voice got suddenly serious, intent. “Who'd have thought your worst nightmare was to lose him. Frankly, I just wanted to make it happen, but I'd have to be crazy to kill a technopath. His brain is amazing, did you know that? I can't wait to take it apart."

Steve felt sick to his stomach, but the man continued talking. "His nightmares, now, they're quite similar to yours, it's fascinating really how a man of science can be so stupidly sentimental. So I had to change my plans a little..." He waved his hand as if to illustrate some point. “You have to forgive me, Captain, for changing my interest like that, but he makes for a far more satisfying experiment.”

Steve couldn't keep listening if he tried. It was a madman, he had to be stopped. Most importantly, he hurt Tony, and Steve doubted he'd be able to get much more information out of him anyway.

"Enough," Steve said.

“Enough?!” the man asked incredulously. “You don't get a say when it's enough! I am the Dream Lord...”

Before the sorcerer could finish the sentence, Steve crossed the short distance between them and punched the man square in the jaw, hard. For a split second before Steve's fist connected, the man looked surprised. Then he went down without any defensive reflex, and Steve kept hitting him anyway, again and again, feeling small bones crashing under his hands, warm blood staining his fingers. He was just numb. There was nothing in the world outside of him and the man he was hitting, the sensation of flesh giving under his hands.

He didn't know how long he'd gone at it, before somebody's arms wrapped around his torso and pulled him away.

"Enough, Cap, you'll kill him," Luke Cage shouted at his ear. Steve panted for a few long moments and nodded. He closed his eyes as his senses returned to him. The man - and he still didn't know his real name - was lying still at the ground, his face bloody, a few bones broken. Steve winced, but couldn't really regret his outburst.

"Thanks, Luke," he said. He stepped away from him and looked around. He noticed the garden was no more: they were in just another cold, empty room, much like the one Tony was in. There wasn't even a single chair here. Wolverine stood next to the door, his arms crossed.

"Tony, is he..."

"He's in the previous room, out cold, Peter and Jessica are next to him,” Luke said. “We ran down here when the tentacles disappeared. We found your shield in the room with Tony, too."

It was good to hear his shield was safe. Steve wondered what happened to his uniform – he was still clad in the light training suit – but that wasn't really important. He nodded at the information.

"Luke, take him," he pointed at the unconscious man. "Wolverine, come with me."

He quickly went back to Tony, Wolverine following him. That madman said "no lasting damage", and from what Steve saw, Tony wasn't physically hurt in any way, but he wanted – needed – to be next to him.

Tony still laid in the position Steve left him in, chained wrist over his head. Spider-Man was perched over him, his posture looking worried, and Spider-Woman was taking Tony's pulse. Steve's shield lay under the opposite wall.

"Can you cut through that cuff?" Steve asked, gesturing at Tony's hand.

"How'd ya think," Wolverine said, sliding one claw out. Steve barely stopped himself from telling him to be careful, and observed as Wolverine cut through the metal without any problems.

"And – on his neck," Steve added. Wolverine nodded and cut through the collar as well, and it fell to the ground with a jangling sound. That done, Steve knelt next to Tony.

"His pulse seems normal," Spider-Woman told him. "So does his breathing. What happened here?"

"Some madman. Later." Steve wasn't in a mood to repeat the man's words.

Tony stirred lightly, and Steve put a hand on his unharmed wrist, squeezing gently. His eyes shot open and he focused his sight on Steve almost immediately.

"Steve," he breathed, and he sat up and pulled him in for a kiss.

"Aww, guys, you're in public," Spider-Man said, but even though Steve blushed, both of them ignored him. Tony was clinging to his shirt desperately and nothing would force Steve to push him away now.

"I thought – you..." Tony started saying, when he pulled back.

"I know," Steve said, because he had a pretty good idea. "I'm fine. We all are."

Tony nodded and for a moment longer stayed close to him, his forehead against Steve's, even though it must have been an uncomfortable position with him half-lying on the ground. Then he pulled himself together, and if Steve could still see desperation and fear in his eyes, he doubted anyone else did. He pushed Steve back and stood up, leant against the wall. He looked at the remains of cuffs lying on the ground.

"Stopped the Extremis from working," he explained with disgust. "And probably enhanced that guy's abilities on me. I'll have to check them over. After I sleep for a week."

Steve gathered them - Tony was right, leaving around things capable of that was a bad idea, much as he hated touching them - and eyed Tony. He seemed marginally better than he'd been before, with the Dream Lord still conscious and in control, and Steve wondered if that too had been a part of an illusion.

"You up for walking?" Steve asked quietly. It was obvious he put on a mask for the team, not wanting anybody to see him emotionally compromised, but apart from whatever that man had done to his mind, he'd just spent a week in a cold room without any real possibilities for moving to keep his muscles from stiffening.

"Do I have a choice?" he laughed uneasily. Steve raised his eyebrows and Tony shook his head, then winced, obviously regretting moving. "Absolutely not. I can walk. Just – lend me a hand." His voice shook a little in the last sentence. So maybe his mask wasn't as firm as he'd like it to be. Steve frowned and looked at the rest of the team. He handed the cuffs to Peter, Tony didn't need to be looking at them now.

"Okay, all of you, go outside before us. Call S.H.I.E.L.D. and Doctor Strange."

Luke went first, the unconscious man over his shoulder, Wolverine followed him. Spider-Man hesitated and somehow managed to make his mask look worried. “Tony, are you okay?”

Tony smiled so falsely it almost hurt to watch and nodded. Spider-Man was about to say something else, but Spider-Woman pulled him by his wrist in the direction of exit. “Give them a moment,” she murmured to him, lowering her voice so that only he could hear her, but Steve heard anyway with his enhanced ears.

"Steve," Tony said very, very quietly. "What happened to my armour? I know Extremis is back online, I can access the feeds, but my armour is not here. Is it – where is it?” He wasn't just worried, he sounded almost afraid.

Of course Tony would try to reach it with Extremis first thing after regaining its use. "Don't worry, it's safe in your lab, but it's under a spell. Doctor Strange said he'd rather not take it off without your guidance.”

"Not in those words, I bet," Tony answered, but seemed a fraction more relaxed immediately. "I... That guy, called himself Dream Lord, god, how pretentious is that..." Steve snorted a little, and Tony continued, in ragged voice. "I– Steve. Kiss me again."

That wasn't a request Steve could refuse, not when he wanted it just as badly. He gently pressed his lips against Tony's and put his arms around him as Tony trembled, his eyes glossy in a way Steve knew better than to mention.

"Thanks for sending them away. I'd rather not have a nervous breakdown in front of Luke Cage," he laughed wryly after a moment. "I hate having my head messed with."

"I know."

Tony furiously wiped at his eyes with one hand, succeeding only in smearing the tears across his face. Steve pulled him closer and carefully kissed them away. It said something about Tony's state of mind that he didn't protest it.

"Those nightmares that kept waking you up recently..." Tony said hesitatingly. “They were his doing, weren't they?”

"Yes." This time Tony kissed him reassuringly as if Steve was the one who needed comforting at the moment.

“I've got to admit, guy has a flair for that,” Tony said conversationally. Steve laughed shakily despite himself. Weak jokes were better than crying.

"How long was I here, really?" Tony asked after a moment of silence interrupted only by his still uneven breathing.

"Six days. Sorry," Steve hugged him tighter for a second.

"Not your fault. Sorry for my earlier reaction, though, I wasn't – I knew you'd come. I wasn't myself."

Steve nodded. That wasn't the whole truth, but he didn't call Tony out on it: it was neither the place nor the time. Some issues took longer than even a decade of friendship to work through. Especially for Tony Stark.

Tony breathed deeply. "Okay. We can go. I'm fine. Fine enough to get home, anyway. I hate that room. Please. Let's just go."

Steve didn't ask if he was sure. Instead he smiled a little. “Yeah, let's go home,” he agreed. “I'll just get my shield,” he explained, letting Tony go with a lot of reluctance. He quickly picked it up and returned to Tony, put Tony's arm around his own shoulders to help him keep some of his weight off his legs and together, slowly, they made their way back up.

***

Steve didn't doubt that if Tony didn't want him in his lab, he'd say it immediately after Steve entered, but he still chose to stop next to the door. Tony didn't react well to being surprised lately, and immersed in his work he might not have noticed Steve.

“Mind if I sit and draw here?” Steve asked, raising his sketchpad. Tony went absolutely still where he was sitting on top of the table that his armour lay on, but before Steve could ask if he was all right, Tony smiled weakly. He looked tired more than anything.

“Not at all,” he said, but there was tightness to his voice. It was obvious he wasn't entirely honest, but Steve decided to let it go and sat under the wall Tony was facing. He ignored the stab of pain he felt when Tony almost immediately stood up and turned away, placed himself between his armour and Steve, and resumed his work, his back to Steve. Steve sighed and opened his sketchpad. Both of them still were trying to regain their balance, and Tony varied between seeking physical affection and isolating himself; apparently now it was the latter. Steve told himself that Tony didn't have any qualms about telling him to leave when he didn't want to be distracted, so he couldn't mind that much, and absent-mindedly raised his pencil.

Steve didn't really need to be there, but recently he had a hard time leaving Tony out of his sight if he could help it. They led dangerous lives and he wouldn't change that. What they did was important and sometimes it was unavoidable that one of them got hurt. But for Tony to be attacked because of Steve – that was something else entirely. He hated it. He hated that he put Tony in danger, as involuntarily as it might have been.

“You're brooding. I can feel it here. Stop it,” Tony said after a while. Steve knew he was waiting for Strange to arrive and help him fix it, and in the meantime he checked for what must have been the one hundredth time that each and every part was theoretically in working order. Tony spent the last few days not doing anything else. Every time he learnt the same thing: no fried circuits, nothing broken; just a weird magic field stopping him from accessing the systems. Tony was still hunched over the table, muscles in his back stretching when he reached for a part lying further from him; he must have been looking at Steve through the security cameras in the lab. He held himself together after his initial breakdown in the tunnels, but Steve knew he was far from okay. For all that Tony tried to drown himself in his work and ignore the world around him, Steve realised Tony didn't want to leave him alone any more than Steve wanted to leave him. That he kept an eye on him via the Extremis even while working on his armour just proved it. Steve knew fixing the armour will help him, but it would be a long way back to normal. 

“I'm not brooding,” he replied. Tony didn't need to hear Steve felt guilty about what happened to him. He'd tell Steve it wasn't his fault and that he shouldn't worry about that. And maybe he would have a point, maybe Steve couldn't predict something like this happening, but that didn't change the fact that Tony kept waking up at night, screaming, and Steve couldn't do anything about that but hold him close. The worst were the moments when he couldn't do even that, when Tony would move away from him and start apologizing – Steve had no idea what for – in a broken voice before he got his bearings back.

Doctor Strange chose that moment to appear in the middle of the room. Steve barely stopped himself from jumping up as alarms sounded loudly for a second before Tony turned them off. “I suspect asking you to arrive through door instead of teleporting to a highly secure lab would be too much,” Tony said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You suspect correctly. And if you really didn't want me to do that, you wouldn't be waiting here,” Strange answered, coming closer to Tony.

Tony shrugged. “I want to do this quickly.”

“Obviously. I take it you're ready. I'll need you to assemble the armour manually while I'll be dispelling the magic on it, so that it won't interfere with your systems. Hopefully.” 

“If you fry my armour...” Tony said darkly as he stood up and put the part he was holding back on the table. Strange smirked at him.

“And here I thought great Tony Stark won't ever admit magic can seriously harm his tech.”

“You're enjoying it way too much,” Tony scowled at him.

“A little,” Strange admitted. “Show me the part you want to start with.”

Steve really came to the lab with every intention of finishing a few sketches, but now, observing Tony putting his armour together part after part and Strange touching every newly attached component, making it glow slightly, Steve couldn't tear his eyes apart. Both men looked almost otherworldly in the unnatural light, so engulfed in their work it seemed that they wouldn't notice anything short of Galactus attacking Earth. For all that Tony didn't like magic, they worked seamlessly, and Steve couldn't tell how much time had passed when the armour stood complete between the engineer and the sorcerer. It was magnificent as always, and Steve tried to commit to memory how it looked shed in magic light like that, because he knew he'd want to paint it later. Then Strange touched the breastplate and said a few foreign words, and the light disappeared. Tony stood there without moving for a few seconds, before he smiled widely and the armour broke to parts and formed again around him.

“Perfect,” he said in Iron Man's modulated voice.

Strange took a step back to look at him. “You're welcome,” he said wryly. “Before you take it for a test – I looked at those things you showed me. Captain,” Strange said and turned to Steve, “I'm afraid you'll need a new body armour. That man's speciality was changing dreams into reality, and in your nightmares Tony wasn't Iron Man and you weren't Captain America. The Dream Lord wanted you to feel similarly helpless. He had interesting powers...” he trailed off and shook his head. “You're lucky your shield is made of vibranium and too precious to just destroy even for a madman like him.”

Steve winced involuntarily. The uniform wasn't a problem, Tony will jump at the chance to make him a new one, but the thought of losing his shield... He shook his head to push that vision away. “Thanks for checking that.”

“Not a problem.”

“Don't worry, Cap, you'll get a better uniform now,” Tony said as if he was reading his mind... Or maybe that wasn't the best choice of words after the week they had. “And I'll make sure to measure you accurately,” Tony added. Steve could almost hear the hint of desire in his mechanic voice, imagined the way Tony's blue eyes must have darkened behind his faceplate and blushed furiously.

“It almost seems as if that Dream Lord did you a favour,” Strange chuckled and looked at Tony, serious again. “The cuff and his head-band are just tech, as you said, but there was a hint of magic on the collar. He must have used it to make sure his abilities work on you.”

Even in his armour, Tony seemed tense. Steve wanted to comfort him, but he knew it wouldn't be appreciated in front of Strange. “Thought so,” Tony said. “He was able to knock me out in seconds each time after I realised something wasn't quite right.”

“You're more resistant to magic mind manipulation than most people, now,” Strange said. “So I'm not exactly surprised. He wouldn't want you conscious. His powers lay mostly in dreams, after all.” He shrugged. “Or they used to. He made some kind of a deal with a lesser demon recently,” he added, wrinkling his nose with disgust.

“Yeah, about that – he was a mutant before M-Day. He used to be able to control dreams or make them real to some extent... He'd never been particularly sane, he used to work for A.I.M.,” Tony repeated what he'd read in a S.H.I.E.L.D. file on the man. Steve already knew it; he'd been with Tony when Hill had showed him the folder on the man. He'd been working in one of their labs Steve'd taken down a few months ago. Then M-Day came.

“So he decided magic was the way to regain his powers. I wish people stopped abusing magic like this,” Strange mused.

Tony slowly flexed his fingers in both gauntlets, as if assuring himself that they worked, and then turned away from Strange and fired the repulsor at some equipment Steve couldn't name in the corner. “Tell me about it. He tried with tech, too, and that's just insulting to me,” Tony said.

Strange didn't stir at the display. “I can see that,” he said. “Well, if that's it, I'll go back before you murder any more equipment. Good bye, Tony, Captain.”

“Hey, Stephen, thanks,” Tony'd said seconds before Strange disappeared. Steve at once stood up and went to Tony, put his hand on Iron Man's arm. He wasn't prepared for Tony to step back immediately, his armour disassembling from him in a flash, and startled a little. Tony was terribly pale when he looked at him, and for a second Steve wasn't sure if he even saw him.

“Tony?” Steve asked. Tony shook his head.

“Give me a moment,” he said, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then he slowly made his way back to Steve and took his hand in his, ran his fingers over his arm, then left side. They were almost the same height, so he had to lean down to put his forehead on Steve's shoulder, his hands at his sides. “When I was there...” he said and stopped. Steve stroked his head reassuringly, and after a while Tony continued speaking. “When I was there, what do you think I saw in my dreams?”

Oh. _Oh_. That explained a lot, actually. Steve had nightmares of Tony hurt, of Tony dying; he had assumed Tony saw the same, but about Steve. He hadn't thought that Tony's nightmares were of hurting him with his own hands, of Iron Man attacking him. That made sense: Tony's worst fear was always the idea of his tech being used against people he loved and wanted to protect. Steve felt a fresh wave of hate towards the so-called Dream Lord.

“Look at me, Tony,” he said. “I'm okay. You won't hurt me. I trust you, in or out of the armour.”

“I didn't – I hoped I was over it. But when you touched the armour...” He still didn't raise his head, and Steve put his arm around Tony.

“It's okay,” he said, feeling absolutely helplessly.

“No. It's not,” Tony said. “I am Iron Man. I can't...” he didn't finish, but he did straighten up and look Steve in the eyes. There was resolve in his own eyes. “It's not okay, but it will be.”

Steve couldn't help but smile at that and kissed Tony lightly, quickly. The week when he'd been missing was absolutely hellish, but now he had Tony back, warm, alive and safe in his arms. He was still healing, still a little broken, but he would get past this: he could be incredibly strong and he had Steve to lean on.

“It will be, but now get out of my lab, Steve.” Tony kissed him to take the sting out of the words. “I need to run tests on the armour. I'll come up tonight.”

Steve nodded. He didn't like leaving Tony, but Tony had a point: he had to check the suit, and he couldn't do that while being afraid of hurting Steve by accident – or on purpose, as his dreams might have suggested. Tony needed to feel comfortable in Iron Man and he wouldn't with Steve there. With one last kiss, Steve reluctantly released Tony.

He went upstairs with his sketchpad and sat in their bedroom near the window. He tried to draw a first sketch of the armour as it stood assembled in the magic light earlier in the lab to help with his painting later. He wasn't in the mood for painting now, though, so when he was done with the sketches of the Iron Man, he continued to draw Tony, and then the team. Tony had jokingly suggested they hadn't had his drawings to put on the walls yet some time ago, and while Steve had answered that the walls had been better for it, drawing relaxed him now.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been drawing when he heard Tony's voice at the door.

“Hey, Steve,” he said. Steve turned to look at him. Tony was in his armour, his helmet under his elbow. His voice was sure, but there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes. No fear, though, Steve was glad to notice. “Want to go flying?”

Steve beamed. Of course he wanted to. There was no one else he trusted more in the world.


End file.
